<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146441">weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internal Monologue, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As he stands on the rooftop, he considers whether being alive is worth it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is 10000% just a vent fic and me projecting . somewhat of a cry for help. <br/>huge trigger warning for the entire thing in case you havent read the tags.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <span>It gets to a point where even crying isn't enough; where human emotions can't even convey what is going on inside of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan wishes the situation would be different. He wishes he didn't feel like this, he wishes to be normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But life rarely was kind to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though the past few months have been good, genuinely good, his mind is starting to catch up to him, and it feels like being taken from a safe space to your biggest nightmare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Chan isn't even sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>specifically causes it; all he knows is that the pressure he feels from all possible fields of his life is trying to swallow him whole. It feels like there is a monster sitting on his chest, sharp claws digging under his skin and between his ribs, tearing him up and suffocating. And it's been there for a very, very long time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan hasn't been alright in a very, very long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While times are good, a lot of the times he feels like a rotting husk of a person. As though, if someone were to cut him open only rot and decay would spill out. A lot of the times, he wishes they'd just bury his body and let his mind be at peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands at the rooftop of the building that he seems to have set his roots in, and thinks about dying. It's cold, and his entire body is shivering, but he can't bring himself to walk inside. He thinks about how big of a nuisance he is - sure, he's fine at times, but most would consider him overbearing. Annoying, even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan wonders how many people would show up to his funeral. He wonders how many people would cry after finding out about his death; and the though probably should make him feel bad, should make him want to stay alive so that he doesn't hurt the people he loves, but he finds that he doesn't care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why would he? He'll be dead anyways. He won't be there to see him cry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, but the people he loves have always been strong, stronger than he could ever be. And they'll get over him in no time. Maybe, as years go by, everyone will forget about his existence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought puts him at peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considers dying in nature; leaving everything behind and disappearing somewhere no one would find him, dying there and letting the earth reclaim his bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considers making it a huge thing - like jumping out of a building in broad daylight, or something. A last inconvenience to everyone involved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All options are good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan thinks about his past - he thinks about the times he's felt similar things, thinks about the previous attempts to get rid of himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe, all of this is a dream. Maybe he really did die those years ago, and this is his own personal hell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it isn't, he wonders why he's still here. Why he still bothers, while nothing ever gets better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he's tried it all; therapy, meds, drugs. None of them seem to make him better. None of them seem to make him feel alive again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he closes his eyes, he ponders over the remaining months of the year. He thinks about vague plans for the next one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if it's worth being alive just to see those plans happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, if anyone asks, Chan is fine. Just a little tired. Always the same excuse, time and time again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does no one notice? Or do they just not care?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's not sure. He doesn't know if he wants to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if he were someone different, he would've asked for help long ago. If he were different, maybe he'd already be better. But no, he doesn't want to be a bother, he doesnt want to inconvenience anyone, doesn't want to make anyone worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's not like anything about him is worth worrying about. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>